


FOH / BOH

by QueenDollopHead



Series: Zukka Week 2021 [3]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crushes, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Zukka Week 2021
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 12:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30072222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenDollopHead/pseuds/QueenDollopHead
Summary: Zukka WeekDay 3:Tea or Coffee Shop///Friends to LoversZuko flirts with one of the regulars at the Jasmine Dragon. It's all perfectly fine and dandy until Iroh decides tohirethe guy.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Zukka Week 2021 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2209653
Comments: 30
Kudos: 154





	FOH / BOH

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Fuxxy_Panda101!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuxxy_Panda101/pseuds/Fuxxy_Panda101) for beta-ing!

One of Zuko’s customers is absolutely fascinating.

The guy has been visiting _The Jasmine Dragon_ long before Zuko started working here, according to his uncle, but only recently has he been at the forefront of Zuko’s mind.

His name is Sokka– or at least that’s the name he places his order under. 

Zuko’s had several customers over his first several months of employment that have ordered drinks for “Daenerys”, “Hermione”, “Din Djarin”, and even “Cinderella”. At the very least, the last one was pretty easy to spell.

Speaking of spelling– Zuko _repeatedly_ butchers Sokka’s name. Only the first incident was accidental.

 _“It’s actually with two K’s,”_ Sokka had said politely, after that initial mortifying encounter when ‘Socka’ picked up his coffee from the counter.

Problem is, the next time Sokka comes in, Zuko is completely swamped with customers and scribbles the name so quickly, that even he can’t be too sure what he wrote. All he knows is that Sokka frowns when he picks it up.

Sokka doesn’t say anything about it, but the next time he comes in, he spells it out for Zuko.

“ _S- O- K- K- A,_ ” he says when Zuko reaches for a cup.

And Zuko _should_ care about his uncle’s reputation more than this, but Jet had taken a two-hour lunch earlier and left Zuko to complete all of that afternoon’s side-work– cleaning the toaster oven, taking out the garbage, restocking the garnishes– and Zuko doesn’t feel like dealing with any more slack, even if Sokka is mostly being cheeky about it.

So he scribbles ‘SOK²A’, makes his drink and plops it on the counter.

But Sokka _laughs_ and it’s stupidly cute.

“So you’re just– not gonna spell my name properly then?” Sokka asks, taking a sip. “Ever?”

“Nope,” Zuko replies, keeping his inflection neutral. It’s really hard to keep his cool when Sokka is looking at him like that– bemused grin revealing adorable dimples, but Jin had always told him that he’s funniest when he has a flat delivery.

And Sokka’s funny, and cute. And Zuko wants him to think that _he’s_ funny, too.

And cute. That would be nice.

“Okay then,” Sokka says with a chuckle. “But I’m pretty sure K-squared is still just one ‘K’, if one times one is still just _one_.”

“K is a variable.” Zuko says, pointing at his cup.

Sokka scoffs. “Still, even if K stands for 2, that would give me four K’s.”

Zuko hums noncommittally, then says: “I have other customers, you know.” Zuko arches his brow in mock annoyance, and Sokka tilts his head, silently claiming his victory in this debate.

“Try not to mess up their names,” Sokka calls as he exits the shop.

Very quickly, it becomes a running joke between them to see how creatively Zuko can bastardize Sokka’s name.

Socket. So2Ka. Soccer. Sucka. Socca.

There are times he has to tap in Jet so as not to repeat himself.

Sohkah. Sawka. Sock it.

And a few times he manages to write it correctly, _technically._

Sokka scrutinizes the coffee cup. “Huh?”

“It’s mirrored.” Zuko explains. “If you take a selfie with it, it’ll read correctly.”

Followed by the name upside-down, then mirrored both directions– that one he had to practice a few times, and, his most favorite, an equation:

“You’re the math expert,” Zuko grins. “Solve for ‘ _you’_.”

Sokka grins, snatches a beverage napkin and Zuko’s pen to solve the equation.

He multiplies both sides by ‘ok’, then holds up his answer. “‘ _You equals Skaok_ ’,” Sokka reads.

Zuko shrugs. “It’s multiplication, you can still rearrange the letters.”

It’s all fairly routine– Zuko intentionally butchers Sokka’s name, Sokka laughs and rewards him with some witty banter.

Until one day, Sokka strolls in and doesn’t order the usual.

In fact, he walks right up to the counter– no, _past_ the counter to Uncle’s office in the back. When Sokka comes out, he’s wearing an apron.

Sokka strides right up next to him, then draws a notepad and pen from his pocket. “I’m all ears, boss!” He says. “How do I make an expresso?”

“ _Es_ presso,” Zuko corrects, frowning. “Hold that thought. Don’t take any orders ‘til I get back.”

Zuko slips past Sokka, careful not to make contact, before stomping over to knock on his uncle’s door.

“Come in!” Uncle Iroh’s voice calls. Zuko pushes open the door, and his uncle smiles brightly when he recognizes him. “Nephew– to what do I owe the pl–?”

“You can’t just _hire_ the regulars, Uncle!”

For all the anger and embarrassment Zuko feels, his uncle is annoyingly calm. “Zuko, it is _my_ tea shop,” Uncle laughs. “Besides, he seems like a nice enough man. I’m sure you’ll get on just fine.”

Zuko crosses his arms over his chest. “Did you know he was coming in today?” His uncle nods. “And were you going to tell me that I was supposed to _train_ somebody today?”

“Hmmm,” Uncle Iroh strokes his beard. “I suppose I ought to have put that on the calendar.”

Zuko rolls his eyes. “Thanks,” he says dryly. Nothing more to say, Zuko turns to leave his uncle’s office. When he approaches his workstation, he sees Sokka eagerly chatting with a pair of customers at the register.

“I thought I said not to take any orders,” Zuko says tightly, forcing his customer service smile.

Sokka’s returning grin is not at all forced, and momentarily disarms Zuko. “I wasn’t,” Sokka insists. “I was telling them that today is my first day, but also what _my_ favorite orders are as a customer.”

“Thanks, Sokka,” Zuko says. He turns to the customers and in the same voice, asks: “What can I get for you today?”

It’s not the first time that Zuko’s trained a new employee, but it’s certainly the most fun he’s ever had doing so. Sokka is a quick study, despite some of his earlier mistakes– though Zuko suspects those were intentional, every time Zuko swooped in to intervene, Sokka smirked while Zuko explained the process, then immediately got it right on the second try.

They laugh about stupid things– the name of the drinks, the number of beetles used to create the food colorings, Jet’s caterpillar brows.

But Sokka is also liberal with his compliments. He is quick to admire how Zuko effortlessly measures the drinks, how easily he describes his process while gliding through the motions, how perfect the final pour.

Sokka’s words, not his.

Zuko very nearly stumbles under the praise, but then he suddenly finds himself showing off a bit. He shakes the tea-lemonades in a one-handed grip, programs the blender with the other. He scoops the ice and shucks it into the glass in one fluid motion, glides over to all of the different work stations while verbally labelling all of the ingredients.

He also notably leans over Sokka more often than strictly necessary. Asks him to reach up for things on shelves that are perfectly within Zuko’s range. He admirably resists the urge to let the contact of their fingers linger when he accepts each item, but he smiles his thanks, meets his eyes.

Every now and again, he braves the jolt of electricity that courses through him when he lays a hand on Sokka’s shoulder or arm to ease him away from an area he’s blocking. One time he even risks touching his lower back when Zuko leans down to get something on from below. This time, he feels Sokka suck in a sharp breath, but he doesn’t pull away.

Sokka’s cheeks are tinged pink when Zuko returns topside with the retrieved item he didn’t need.

But the 4-hour training window is over too soon. Zuko still has the rest of his shift to finish, and Uncle never did stop by to tell him the rest of Sokka’s schedule for the week.

“So, my meal?” Sokka asks on his way back from filling out forms in Uncle’s office.

He’s talking about the training meal, of course. New trainees can’t accept tips, but they always get one in-house meal comped on a training day.

“Sure,” Zuko says after a moment. “What would you want?”

“A drink is fine,” Sokka says.

Zuko nods. Very few employees consider the pastries and cookies they sell to be a meal, and depending on the order, their drinks could often be more expensive than any of their food items. He reaches for a cup and a marker, but Sokka’s hands grab them first.

“To go,” Sokka says, scribbling on the cup. He caps the marker, then shoves the empty cup into Zuko’s hands. Zuko holds it dumbly while Sokka adds: “Or, tonight, maybe? After your shift ends?”

Surely Zuko is hearing him wrong, but everything he’s ever learned about body language demonstrates that Sokka is both serious and interested– in _him_. His mouth suddenly feels very dry, so he licks his lips before answering the only thing his brain can register: “Uncle’s not going to pay for that.”

Sokka sure laughs a lot, but each one is just as genuine as the last. He can’t help but brace for the jab– to find that Sokka is laughing _at_ him, but his merriment never turns cruel. “Tell you what, your uncle can pay for that one,” he says, tapping the cup. “And then I’ll treat tonight. Make yourself something you like.”

Zuko gets a training meal, too, of course, but this doesn’t seem like the time to mention that.

The gorgeous, tanned man unties his apron and throws it over his shoulder before stepping back to the front of the restaurant. He doesn’t wait to see how his promise short-circuits Zuko, but he does wave on his way to the door.

“Wait,” Zuko calls, and Sokka stops, turning to him patiently. “How do I–” and then he remembers the cup in his hand. Sure enough, Sokka’s name and phone number are scrawled on the side.

Guess writing legibly will be part of the training, too.

“Sokka,” Zuko groans. “You can’t just write your number on the coffee cups!” It’s so cliché– so cheesy and cheap and _overdone_ but Zuko can’t deny how the sentiment makes something giddy bubble up in his chest.

Sokka smirks at him. “Well _someone_ had to! You had your chance, pal,” he says, coming back up to lean against the counter. “Lucky for you, you make a mean macchiato and a cute barista.”

Zuko reaches up, pushes a strand of hair behind his ear. His heart is pounding in his ears as he shakily answers his thanks. “See you tonight, then?”

“It’s a date,” Sokka winks, backing out the door.

Zuko’s views on cheesy things are rapidly changing, it seems, because this too stirs the butterflies in his stomach.

When Sokka leaves, Zuko programs his contact into his phone: _Skaok_.

**Author's Note:**

>  **BOH** – Back of House; restaurant lingo for the back area or "employee only" section. Does not require customer service voice.  
>  **FOH** \- Front of House; restaurant lingo for the area where the customers are. Not to be confused with _FOS_ which is waiter shorthand for French Onion Soup. 😜
> 
> 💕 Thanks for reading!! Comments and Kudos appreciated 💕
> 
> Zukka Week sparks much joy and so do all of you 🤩


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